On Racial Belonging & Solidarity

    Home is wherever water flows - as being immigrant and trans have layered my experiences, feelings, and navigations around/to the concepts of home and belonging...

    I remembered at the age of 11 turning 12 - moving countries again and again before settling in 'Canada', across the globe and far away from my East-Asian Island home. It was a contrast compared to living in Singapore and Malaysia as well, where flights to/from Taiwan were only 4-5 hours long. Yet I remembered being excited to leave and begin again despite the uncertainties of distance and language/cultural barriers... I wanted to start over and do/be better, socially as a feminine "boy" tired of being bullied at every school I went to. I told myself that I must learn to fit in and make friends, forcing myself to be more masculine and thus why I tried hanging out with many cis-guy classmates in grade 7 when I first came. And fast-forward to failed attempts of learning cis-masculinity, repressing queerness/trans-femininity, and toughing out against endless gay/fat jokes, which resulted in me finally coming out as a queer teen. However, the lessons and trials of assimilation for socio-political survival doesn't end there as traumas of being asked to eat dumplings outside a portable classroom also made me stopped eating Chinese food at middle-school and fighting with my mom weekly about what to bring as lunch... Coming to what we know now as 'Canada' as a child who already was marginalized socially in different Asian countries/cities/schools, was a violent game of cultural-assimilation and self-whitewashing with my deep desires to being understood/loved/accepted to be exploited as drive for mental submission. I still think of young times of solitude as a child growing up and playing alone, without trying to be anybody else or ever compromising my identity/expressions for others' understandings nor validations. I remembered not having any words/analysis/reflections nor explanations of why other boys and girls wouldn't play with me or laughed at me; I remembered crying about people not being nice but sometimes being okay with it as well... I softly remember and gently treasure those innocent and youthful memories of enjoying/embodying/embracing myself - memories I miss/grief/recall for our hurting humanity. 

    And then one night in the last year of high school on our way home, my mother asked in conversation if I think I'll ever and fully be seen/treated as white Canadian after years of cultural-abandonment and conditioned self-assimilation... I responded no while remembering the stares of cis white parents, the betrayals/neglect/misunderstandings/tokenizations from cis white peers, and even if queer but cis + whiteness: the normality of privilege and ego comfort. Looking back: from sitting in front of the TV repeating sentences in practice to soften my accent to me being the only trans person of colour in social-circles to me pleased to be a cis white girl's "gay best friend" to how no one cared for a trans friend at the end - I understand that it was all but a game of trying to be seen, felt, and wanted while navigating character/identity realizations/development/actualizations. Many other Asian/immigrant peers called me "banana" and joked about my whitewashing back then as well, but I forgive and hold myself dearly for the ways I had learned for survival. Especially as a queer/trans person in a suburban town like Waterloo, I now understand how my lightskin and me speaking the colonizer's language was what had saved me from further social-antagonization/alienation and extreme/violent discriminations/marginalization... Yet I remember not long after, it was a friendly stranger's kindness/softness: an older non-binary Black femme, who's an immigrant-islander as well who sent me money after hearing stories of transphobia at school. It was also around when I started attending community poetry slams after losing most friends at school, thus again a new beginning of social-searching for belonging. Though this time, it was of queer/trans Black, Indigenous, and people of colour who were artists as well. I remembered being in awe of coloured femme bodies together, in support and solidarity, being unapologetically ethnic and feminine on their own terms. I remembered feeling free, and accepted, even when I've just met those people yet now I understand that its the linage and connections that we have as femmes of feelings for healing...

    Black people have taught me love as Indigenous people have taught me life. I have painted myself as a lost/abandoned mermaid at shore for a self-portrait before as I've often referred to my journey of interpersonal/socio-political belonging to being a mermaid. Thus through growth and reflections, I really believe that my blossom here as a settler-immigrant in Turtle Island (North America) could not have been if I didn't cross paths with certain mentors, chosen-families, and community members - if it weren't for the teachings, generosity/grace, and specific moments of reaching out/empathy - I would not be the flower I am today. It is from Black/Indigenous women/femmes that I relearn how to grow a home internally while communities externally; and it is with Black/Indigenous queer/trans folks that I unlearn for collective rest, self-preservation, and intercommunal joy: like an adopted mermaid at shore, I will forever hold gratitude and give back for the ways this land and its land/water protectors have helped me breathe.

    Though I was also afraid of repeating same mistakes - of mistaking bodies as homes, as belongings and acceptance my inner child still craves... As domestic violence and physical abuse was the normal exchange between families of blood that I still seek of chosen-families by waters for cleanse. Yet I must belong deeply to myself, like waves extending/embracing out and back to themselves; I must feel safe with the rivers within even if I become/represent the in-betweens of belonging - perhaps both, perhaps none, perhaps all but still one and at peace. I must cry oceans wondering of home, to wander across seas for blood just to drink and cry more... So I understand, that there needs to be no belonging for solidarity as empathy is not required for support either. We don't need to be included to love and care, to re/unlearn and to do/be better. I am a Taiwanese lightskin immigrant, an East-Asian islander, and a transgender-woman/femme always in support/solidarity while searching for softness and belonging. Though no matter my positionalities of "home" or belonging, I shall defend the homes of others as well as the homes of our collective future.